บท 281: 282. A Commission of One Oren.
"Allen…"
Mary, who was crouching by the street, suddenly let out a gasp as she retched. The Witcher hurried over, thinking something had gone wrong.
"What's the matter?" he asked.
The girl covered her mouth, her eyes brimming with tears, clutching his sleeve tightly with one hand, while her other hand trembled as she lifted it. Following the direction of her pointing finger, the Witcher's gaze fell upon a shuddering scene, and he froze in place.
In the dim ruins, a red brick half-buried a person—a gray-haired elderly woman.
Just not long ago, he had spent one oren to buy a rose from this kind, smiling woman because she had said, "Such a beautiful young lady deserves the finest flower." She had also gifted Mary a pink carnation, blessing her with "a fine match and a happy life."
The Witcher instinctively turned his head.
The pink carnation, once pinned to the girl's chest, was nowhere to be found, but the red rose was still in Mary's hair, slightly pressed and dusty yet still blooming brightly.
"It was worth that oren," a seemingly inappropriate thought popped into the Witcher's mind.
"She's the Flower Granny…" Arthur approached, speaking softly as though afraid of disturbing the soul of the deceased. "She was the best flower grower and arranger in all of Ellander, and naturally, her flowers were the most expensive…"
"I remember she had a grandson…"
The middle-aged knight's voice suddenly choked.
The Witcher followed his gaze.
About three or four meters from the Flower Granny, at the edge of a fallen wall, a small, round, dust-covered hand peeked out.
"Ah—!"
Mary saw it too, letting out a wail and throwing herself into Allen's arms. The Witcher held her in silence, gently patting her back, his chest soon damp with her tears.
Arthur sighed deeply.
The Flower Granny had always been friendly, constantly smiling; she was a cherished memory for many in Ellander—a memory of the best times in life.
After a moment, Mary seemed to realize they were not alone. She wiped away her tears, her face red, hastily stepping away from the Witcher's embrace. But amid the thick stench of blood and smoke, no one was in the mood for teasing.
The citrus scent drifted from his arms as the Witcher steadied himself, preparing to lift the rubble from the Flower Granny and her grandchild's bodies, hoping to arrange a proper burial later.
After all, they had crossed paths, however briefly.
Just then, his eye caught a glint of silver.
"Tck-tck-tck~"
The Witcher walked over.
Near the Flower Granny's body, a basket partially hidden by debris had been covered with a now blood-stained gray cloth.
Vivid flowers of all colors lay scattered around the basket.
As the torchlight flickered, a silver glint appeared among the flowers.
Under everyone's gaze, the Witcher crouched, carefully brushed the dust off the flowers, and placed them back in the basket.
One, two, three…
When he picked up the fourth flower, he noticed something odd. In his hand, he held a silver oren. There was only this single oren on the ground.
With his heightened senses, he could feel his and Vera's energy on the coin.
It was the oren he had used to buy the flower.
After a few seconds of silence, Allen carefully searched the basket.
"Clink-clink-clink~"
In the clear jingle of coins, he found a small cloth pouch inside, filled with orens and copper coins neatly tucked away.
"Could this be a coincidence?" Allen thought.
He rose, carrying the basket to Arthur.
"Could I trouble you to return this basket to any of the Flower Granny's remaining family members?" he asked. "There's quite a bit of money in it…"
Arthur instinctively took the basket, glanced at Mary, whose face was flushed and tear-streaked, and, after a moment's hesitation, whispered, "The Flower Granny no longer has any family."
"Her son died during the Falka Rebellion, and her daughter-in-law from the Black Plague that spread from Vizima..."
"So…"
Arthur looked again at the small, gray hand, then handed the basket back, shaking his head with a soft sigh. Saying nothing more, he let Mary sob quietly.
Allen was stunned, looking down at the basket in his right hand, and then at the silver oren in his left.
"Is this a sort of advance payment?" he murmured. "Seems a bit too little..."
Then, looking at the ruins of Ellander, a spark glinted in his blue eyes.
"But…"
"I'll take the commission."
--------------
Ten minutes later.
Allen and Mary were gently extracting the Flower Granny and her grandchild's bodies from the rubble, making sure to keep them as intact as possible.
Once things had settled in Ellander, surely the Duke or the temple priests would oversee their proper burial, bringing peace to the restless souls.
"Clip-clop-clip~"
The sound of hooves approached from nearby.
Upon entering the city gate, Arthur had sent a knight to deliver a battle report to Duke Mason, and now the knight had returned.
He dismounted and spoke softly into Arthur's ear, "The marauders have all been eliminated. The Duke ordered us to escort the guests back first, then go to Ellander Market Square to clear the rubble and remains of the dead…"
The middle-aged knight nodded, glancing over at Vesemir, about to speak.
"There's no need to be so polite in light of what's happened…" Vesemir interjected.
He glanced briefly at Vera, aware they weren't the only Witchers present.
"I'll help as well," the sorceress said plainly.
Arthur looked around appreciatively, then mounted his horse and led the way to Ellander Market Square.
Upon arrival, Allen saw that many guards and Melitele temple priests were already attending to the wounded, the dead, and the wreckage.
After taking orders from Arthur and Sara, the knights and soldiers began assisting. The two Witchers helped lift heavy rubble, and the sorceresses used beginner-level spells to heal minor wounds with Earth Element Healing.
For more severe injuries, Vera would even snap her fingers to bring out a rare potion.
Of course, this wasn't free.
Once Duke Mason learned that the Witchers and sorceresses were helping, he instructed Arthur to reimburse every potion used, as long as it was verified by temple priests and healers. Of course, potions like the Verdant Sigh were exempt.
So, they worked for hours, all the way until the full moon dipped westward, and dawn light crept over the horizon.
Arthur and Sara escorted Allen and the others back to the temple at last. It wasn't that they didn't know the way.
Allen and Mary might be unfamiliar with the area, but Vesemir and Vera were quite old and had undoubtedly visited this city countless times. There was no way they'd be lost. It was Arthur and Sara who insisted on escorting them, even though both of them had heavy dark circles under their eyes and bloodshot whites.
"Please rest well today," Arthur said, standing at the entrance of the Melitele Temple. "Tomorrow or the day after, once the May Day matters in Ellander are sorted, Master Mason will definitely summon you all…"
"There's no hurry; we'll be staying in Ellander for a while longer," Vesemir replied.
He was close to finishing his research on the documents regarding the Wild Hunt, but he'd still need a few days.
Arthur nodded.
He then glanced at Sara and, along with over two hundred knights and monster hunters, bowed in unison to the witchers and sorceress. It wasn't clear whether it was intentional or not, but the direction of the bow seemed aimed directly at Allen, even though he was standing off to the side.
Apart from Mary, who felt a bit uncomfortable, the others received the gesture steadily, without modesty.
After that,
Arthur and Sara gave a final nod toward Allen, and then led the army down the mountain path, leaving the temple. As they watched them gradually disappear into the morning light, Allen suddenly heard Vera ask, concerned: "Has the dark god's gaze vanished?"
"I'm not sure," Allen shook his head. "But I'd say it hasn't yet…"
After all, nothing had happened after the monster tide was dealt with. The shard of the Gate of Ard Gaeth was as it always was, and the link with the Mirage Pearl in his mind remained silent.
"What are we going to do?" Vera asked worriedly. "Ianna must be at Duke Mason's castle right now. She probably won't have any time for the next few days…"
The sorceress was right. They had returned with the monster hunters and knights because their tasks were complete. Of course, there were still people needed to clear the rubble and change the bandages for the wounded.
But, at the end of the day, they were not citizens of Ellander, so it wasn't right for them to handle every bit of grunt work.
Once things stabilized, they were naturally allowed to go back and rest. But the temple's priests, herbalists, and healers were not as lucky; their work had only just begun.
On one hand, the numerous wounded needed caretakers and healers.
On the other hand, there was also the matter of handling the bodies.
With so many people having died such horrific deaths tonight, it was all too easy for them to turn into wraiths driven by their final, intense emotions. So many bodies would keep the temple staff busy for several nights, probably without a single chance to return to the temple.
Like now.
They'd been standing at the entrance of the Melitele Temple for quite some time, yet no one else had returned. As the archpriestess, Ianna was bound to be even busier, being the temple's most skilled priestess, healer, and herbalist.
Not only did she need to fulfill her priestly, healing, and herbalist duties, but she also had to discuss the impact of the May Day festival with Ellander's nobility and determine how to manage the aftermath.
"It's fine," the witcher shook his head.
There was little Ianna could do about the dark god's gaze anyway.
"I'll go to the sanctuary later and see if I can solve this issue." He added.
Vera could only nod, then she took the reluctant Mary and headed to their quarters.
Vesemir, whose path was on the way, walked with him a little further. When it was time to part, he patted Allen on the shoulder, saying, "Well done tonight. Don't rush it—there will be a way…"
After that,
He left as well.
---------------
Tap, tap, tap.
Footsteps echoed in the hallway.
Though he hadn't been here for half a month, it was just one hallway and a single ancient, weathered statue in the sanctuary.
In these short few days, naturally, nothing had changed within the sanctuary.
And since the Melitele Temple was nestled within the Mahakam Mountains, not only had the statue remained untouched, but the sanctuary itself hadn't been affected by the Wild Hunt's assault.
Of course, the magical ingredients Vera once summoned with a snap of her fingers, occupying most of the statue room, had been tidied up with another snap after he'd left.
Traces of the ritual circle were still faintly visible on the marble floor.
Hoo…
The witcher sat down in his usual spot and let out a long sigh.
Gazing at the familiar three holy statues—a maiden, a pregnant woman, and an old crone—he couldn't help but recall the hellish scenes from earlier. Reaching into his chest pocket, he took out the Oren and rolled it between his thumb and forefinger.
A rather bold question popped into his mind.
"Is the goddess Melitele really as Ianna says, unwilling to let mortals rely on divine power?"
"Or perhaps…"
"Is it that she simply can't—she isn't truly able to interfere in the mortal realm?"
Otherwise, with the Wild Hunt's assault and the appearance of so many wraiths, a disaster far beyond Ellander's ability to endure and not even caused by humans,
Why would she not intervene?
If Allen hadn't been there, armed with specter oil, who knows what might have happened to Ellander as it was so freshly wounded. The city, besieged by wraiths, might have suffered even more.
At the very least, the prestige of the Melitele Temple in the Northern Kingdoms would surely have diminished.
In fact, even now, the witcher doubted that tonight's events wouldn't have some negative impact on Melitele's followers in Ellander.
Did she truly not care for mortal belief?
If not, then why did she exist at all?
What were the gods in the world of witchers?
---------------------
He pondered these questions for a while. But, of course, he knew that mere speculation wouldn't yield any answers. The goddess' three statues remained still, their serene faces gazing benignly upon the sanctuary, with no intent to answer him.
So, the witcher gave a slight, bitter smile, shook his head, and stopped dwelling on these somewhat irreverent questions.
With a thought, he opened the Witcher's Notebook.
[Inventory: Purified Wraith Essence x3, Experience Orbs x45, Specter Chest x18, Wraith Essence x630, Wraith Chest x18…]
Rolling the Oren between his thumb and forefinger, he felt the abundant spoils from the hunt, enough to lift his spirits considerably.
Whether or not the "Curse of the Dark God" could be broken here or even today remained uncertain. Coming to the sanctuary was mostly to avoid others and use the essence, as well as to open the chests.
Allen pondered for a moment, then began using the Wraith Essence one by one, which stopped being effective after the fifth one.
His Perception attribute increased by two points. But that wasn't surprising, given he'd already used sixteen of the Wraith Essence.
The essence of drowner hearts and ghoul heart extracts had both capped out at twenty units each, and his extra use of one essence was more for testing, with a sliver of hope. Unfortunately, twenty was indeed the limit.
After finishing with the Wraith Essence, the witcher took a deep breath and set his gaze on the first item in the inventory…
[Ding! Would you like to use the Purified Wraith Essence of the Cyclopean Wraith?]
....
📢20 advanced chapters on p@treaon📢
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283. Divine Dreamwalking.
284. Unboxing.
285. The Behemoth Snare and Battle Roar of the Cyclopean Clan.
286. Would the Wolf School Like to Move?
287. To Whom Should the White Iris Lance Charge!!!
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